Over It
by Donner Dumott Schunard
Summary: Entry for speedrent. It's been five years since RENT, and Collins has just gotten over Angel... during Roger's funeral. Collinscentric


**Over It**

**By Donna**

Why was I so used to this? Why was I able to walk through a funeral parlor so numbly and just be able to take the fact that now there was only me left? Why am I still living? Why couldn't I go first? Why couldn't I be with my soulmate? Why?

Maybe it is the philosopher in me, constantly needing to question why I am even here anymore. I mean, sure, I feel horrible for the fact that Roger is gone, but now he's with April and Mimi... and Angel.

I never thought that breathing could hurt so much.

"Collins?" Mark asks, touching my shoulder.

I stare at him, lost. It's been five years since I ever felt so warm inside... since I felt so happy... since I felt so... alive.

Mark pokes me. "Collins... you're scaring me."

I shake my head. If only he knew...

"Hey, it's nothing, man," I whisper. God... he looks so different. He's made so much money off of _Today 4 U: Proof Positive _and a few other documentaries, he just doesn't look the same. He has these really nice suits, an actual haircut, and these really nice looking glasses with these really frames that just make him look great.

During the last few years of Roger's life, he invested in so much for the guy. He tried to get every treatment possible for him. I think he wanted to actually try, unlike Angel, whom all we could do was watch. He's been doing it to me, too. He sometimes gives me these really weird "medicines," which are mostly just leaves and dirt ground together, but I think he believes that they might just make us all feel a little better. He's not the same kid that was dancing on tables and being... Mark. He's just... Mr. Cohen, as a lot of people call him. Me? I'm just Collins. I weigh ten pounds below normal, or so, and I'm wearing a jacket three sizes too big that I can't seem to let go of because of personal attachment.

Looking back on the past five years, six years even, I never thought life could be so cruel. I wonder how the hell I was able to outlive Roger. I mean, really. He was so closed off from the world, he barely got sick, but something just triggered it and now he was gone.

Mark and I get into the limo to go to the cemetery. Mark went all out for Roger. Then again, who wouldn't for their best friend? I thought it was very nice of him...

Mark says, "Maureen and Joanne couldn't make it."

I nodded. "Oh... I'm sorry."

"Y-yeah... Maureen... well... she's in LA, now... and Joanne is... I really don't know. The law firm must have a really tight noose on her," he mumbles.

I sigh. Maureen moved to LA after Mimi died. She eerily died a few days after the first anniversary of Angel's death. It was spooky. By then, Joanne was caught up in her job. She moved away from us, to Chicago. And Maureen couldn't take it anymore. She lost all her girls. She couldn't take it anymore, but you know Maureen, she's a city girl at heart, as much as Mark disagrees. So she moved to the left coast. We talk sometimes. I think she's happy. She works in productions of musicals and such. And you know how California is, she's on top of all the latest political topics. She is bucking for gay marriage. She always says, "Just wait and see, Collins! It'll be fabulous!" I just sigh. It won't do me any good.

I stare out the window. I can't believe I'm not over Angel. This isn't like me. I've disposed of lovers rather easily. But Angel... he was all but parasitic, really. Maybe it's because I believe that he was the real deal. I should have pulled a _Romeo and Juliet _and dived into his grave or something. Or just leave this whole entire area. Maybe go with the old people to Florida and get a few plastic flamingos and name them after everyone. That'd be fun.

I think this is the curse for falling in love with someone too young and too sick. Now I'm stuck with living five years after. I'm a medical miracle. Whoopee.

Mark looks like he's about to explode. "Collins..." he moans, in this really pitiful voice.

I hug him. I don't know what to do. I really don't. Roger died alone, aside from Mark. It wasn't fair, really. Angel had me, Mimi had himself... Mark couldn't do anything, really. I mean, sure, they were best friends, but best friends don't hold each other's hands or take chances and sneak into their lover's bed. It doesn't happen.

"Mark," I say, "It's not your fault."

"If he only took those damn herbal teas..." he mumbles.

I groan. "Mark, you and I both know that no matter what, he was going to die. No matter how many remedies you gave him or how high his AZT dosage was, you couldn't save him. He's happy now. He's with Mimi. With April."

I felt like laughing. Was everyone in the Village attracted to train wrecks?

Mark sighs. "You're right, Tom."

I flinch. He called me by my first name. Uh oh.

"Sometimes I wonder," he says, pushing up his glasses, "I mean, I watched Angel, Mimi, and Roger die... and you will... I'm sorry to mention it!" he gasps.

"Hey, it's cool, I've gotten over that _years _ago," I say, "Go on."

"...well... I wonder," Mark says, "I mean, sure, I'm going to live, God willing, a long time. I'll have this wonderful, long, life, supposedly, but will it ever be worth it? I mean, I never take chances. I don't venture very far. I don't throw my arms out and scream, 'Love me or hate me'... I just stand there. I mean, look at them all, Collins. They were dancers, musicians, _artists_, and you knew it, dammit! You knew it so well! They took chances, sure, it ended up being each of their downfalls, but it helped them all the same. Roger, though high, wrote some damn good songs while on heroin. Trust me. And Mimi... she flaunted it. She wasn't afraid. And her fearlessness, it healed Roger! That's... that's just pure... talent. And Angel... don't even let me get started on her... she... she was just ungodly."

I laugh. Angel probably did more for me than "God" ever did. But that was a long-standing fact.

"Mark," I say, "It's okay. You are going to be the smarter one. Look at you... you're successful and everything."

The limo stops and we get out. We look over and I see a rather tired-looking man.

Benny.

I walk over and say, "Hey."

He looks up, unsure whether to laugh or cry. "Hey, Collins."

I grin. "Aren't ya glad you don't have to pay for another funeral?"

I'm sure that was one of the most tasteless things I ever said, but I don't really care anymore.

"Yeah," Benny says, laughing a little. It's a very nervous laugh.

"Well... it could be worse," I say.

"Yeah," he whispers.

Why is everyone so quiet?

I don't like this at all.

We walk to Roger's plot and babble nonsense about how great he was and shit, and I suddenly have something click in my brain. I don't know who it is or what it is, but I'm think I'm having one of those epiphanies people talk about.

I try and find the highest place in the cemetery, which seems to be a statue of an angel. This is such an irony I don't even know where to start.

I jump on him and secure my feet on the base of the angel's feet. I scream, "Hey!"

Mark gasps, "Collins, what are you doing!"

Mourners, most of which I have no idea who they are, stare at me like I'm the devil himself. I throw up my arms and scream, "Hello! Why are we crying and sobbing and wishing we could fix this? We can't! We couldn't save Roger! Oh well!"

Mark looks ready to kill me. "How could you..."

I wag my finger at him, "No, no, no, Mark! Just listen!"

I put my hands on my hips. "Look, I don't know about you, but I'm sick of moping around and wishing that things were different. A wise, wise man once told me, 'forget regret, or life is yours to miss' and I never fully understood it until today.

"We can't keep doing this! We can't kill ourselves over the past! We gotta act up! Fight! Come on guys! We're not casualties, we're _survivors_!"

I throw up my fist, almost tripping. I grab the angel's concrete wing with my other hand. "C'mon guys! Let's go... let's go and celebrate Roger's life! The good things about him!"

Everyone began to whisper like I just lost it, until Benny raises his fist in the air, too. "Here, here. C'mon guys! Let's hear it for Mister Thomas B. Collins."

Mark nods and begins to clap. "Yeah! Yeah! That's it, Collins! You're back to your old anarchist self..."

I grin. Hell yeah, I am. I'm back.

I jump off the angel and take a gaze at it. I smile a little. Then I say, "C'mon guys, let's go get something to eat."

Benny and Mark rush to my sides and exclaim about how cool what I did was. I don't know if I could exactly merit it as "cool", but I guess this had to be the most action anyone ever gave them in a _long _time.

Then I hear more applauds. I look around, frantic. Who the hell is so delayed that they...

Maureen.

I smile. "Hey, Maureen."

She doesn't look any different. Still the same old mooing Maureen. She hugs me. "That was so cool. You have no idea."

"We're going to the Life, you wanna come?" Mark asks.

Maureen smiles widely. "I thought you'd never ask!"

She looks at Benny and gives him a cock-eyed look. I come in his defense. "Come on, Maureen. He's on our side."

Benny laughs a little. I wonder if it's because he really isn't on our side, or because he's just so overwhelmed he doesn't know how to react. I am at the point that I am so in shock from what I did, I can't even decipher it.

I realize how much I miss fucking up plans. How much I loved to be... Collins.

I realize how much I miss people I just barely met hearing about my exploits and covering their mouths in shock, screaming, "My God! You did?"

I stare at my friends and smile. I'm back. I really, really am.

-------------------------------------------------

About two hours has passed since my random outburst and I... I think I'm happy. I really, really do. God, I haven't felt this way in...ages. In...

..._six years._

Wow. That is... kind of pathetic. Just... moping.

I am really liking this whole "enlightenment" shit. I can't believe I never got anything out of teaching that stuff until today.

Maureen is evidently drunk and hitting on some woman. Mark is just staring off into space. But it's a happy stare. And Benny is smiling too...

This is just a really fun, awkward experience. I know I'm rambling right now... but that's the only way I can describe this.

I raise my beer bottle and scream, "C'mon guys! Say it with me!"

Everyone raises their glasses.

"To Roger!" I scream.

"To Roger!" they scream in reply.

"May his music live on forever as his 'fuckalluvya!' personality!" I say.

"Yeah!" Mark yells, smiling.

"To Mimi!" I scream.

"To Mimi!" everyone yells. Benny's sounds exceptionally louder.

"May her fire keep burning with a little help from us!" I add.

"Aww... yeah!" a drunk voice rings.

Then Mark stands up. "To Angel!"

Everyone raises their glasses a little higher. "To Angel!"

"...for giving Collins' an indirect _slap in the face_!" Mark growls, spilling beer over my head. I scream. "Oh my God! Come on!"

Everyone starts laughing and throwing drinks all over me. It seeps through my shirt, on my back...

"Goddammit!" I utter, smiling and laughing.

I guess this is it.

I guess I can actually say my baggage got lost on an airplane.

I'm over it.

**END**


End file.
